


Don't Look at Them

by QuintonThePhantom



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Bed & Breakfast, Canon Compliant, Corruption scars, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Sort Of, connverse - Freeform, for a whole sentence, have you noticed that i like going on TANGENTS yet, just because, therapy good, there is violence, there's only one bed trope for like five seconds then it's never brought up again because, they in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:25:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23390137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuintonThePhantom/pseuds/QuintonThePhantom
Summary: Steven hates his scars.  They're just proof of the horrible mistakes he made.Connie disagrees.
Relationships: Connie Maheswaran/Steven Universe
Comments: 8
Kudos: 168





	Don't Look at Them

**Author's Note:**

> I had an idea for canon-compliant corruption scars and now here I am at one a.m. finishing my first fic whelp.
> 
> I have literally never written either of them so if they're out of character that's why hehuh. That and the fact that this is unbetad and I wrote this impulsively in like an hour and a half.

Steven remembered how it felt when it had happened as clearly as if he had just been on the ground, clutching his head. He could recall the sensation with as much clarity as if his back had burst apart just moments before, and the monster that was him had consumed his conscious thought.

He didn't like thinking about any part of it. He didn't like remembering the tumultuous emotions he had bottled up for so long exploding, lashing out at everything and everyone around him in a violent hurricane. He didn't like remembering the way his mind had been swallowed up by anger and fear, pulsing throughout his entire being instinctively. He had become no more than a wild animal.

The way it had felt when his bones molded themselves into spikes that tore through his skin was nothing compared to that.

He didn't just dislike thinking about it, no, he loathed it. It made him feel like he was gagging on his own tongue to remember it for even a second. Before he'd spoken about it to his therapist, he couldn't stand to discuss the incident. Even now, it was nearly unbearable to even discuss it in the realm of his own thoughts.

His therapist told him not to blame himself for what had happened, because that would only make things worse, and the cycle would repeat or... something. He tried, but it wasn't easy. It would never be easy.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The cicadas seemed to be screaming in his ears.

The half-gem laid atop the covers on the bed. He had stripped down to his boxers, intending to change, but he hadn't gotten to it yet. He was currently watching the blades of the ceiling fan go round, trying to track his vision onto one of them until it wasn't a blur.

He'd just left Beach City, but it already felt... he wasn't quite sure how it felt. Daunting, perhaps? It had been daunting when he has planned his cross-country journey, but perhaps it had just been solidified as reality in his brain. There was something a lot more scary about 'day one' than 'day negative twenty-three', he supposed.

He was just about to get up(or maybe he was telling himself he was about to get up for a couple of minutes, but that wasn't important) when the knock on the door came. He sat up, confused. Did they come to your door in the middle of the night at bed and breaskfasts? He was pretty sure they didn't, but his only experience with b&es prior to this was a sappy rom-com that he had watched with Connie 'ironically'. He ended up liking it, despite Connie's sarcastic commentary running throughout the entire film.

Maybe something was wrong. He supposed the only way to find out was to see for himself, so he heaved himself onto his feet and went to open the door.

The door creaked on its hinges as he opened it, peering out curiously. To his surprise, standing in the hall behind that door was none other than his best friend- and girlfriend, as of late- Connie Maheswaran.

"Wh-" He stared at her. "I thought you were coming for breakfast. You know, in the morning." She tilted her head slightly, wearing a soft smirk. "I finished up early today, and lion isn't quite slow, so I thought I'd surprise you." She did a quick once-over of him. "Which I clearly did," she added.

"Huh?" He glanced down, only to realize he still hadn't gotten dressed(really? he could've sworn he had). He made a small yelping noise, face heating up. "Uh- just give me a second to, er..."

Connie laughed from behind her hand. "Don't worry about it. I really don't mind."

"I... guess you can come in, then." She gave him a slightly worried look. "If you need space, I can head back and get some more studying done. Lion's sleeping just outside.."

He shook his head. "No, it isn't that. You need to get some rest, so come in." She narrowed her eyes. "What did we talk about?" she asked, taking his hands in hers. It took him a moment to understand that she was referring to the whole 'putting others before yourself' thing. Old habits die hard. "I'm sorry," he said, "What I mean is... I want you here." He looked to the side, embarrassed. "Please stay with me."

She seemed to search his gaze for a minute before nodding and stepping through. "I know that overworking myself is bad. It seems a lot easier than lying awake at first, but I've been getting better at stopping myself," she reassured him. He watched her sit down on the side of the bed- he silently made note of the fact that there was only one bed, something that didn't much help his bright red cheeks- and kick her shoes off.

Steven shut the door, pensive. "Still having trouble..?" he asked, then instantly mentally berated himself for asking something stupid like that. She nodded, closing her eyes and tilting her head back. How could she look so beautiful and perfect and yet so sad at the same time? "I don't think I'll ever not. But therapy helps. I can sleep now, for one. But it'll never go away."

"Yeah..." he said, voice barely above a whisper. He was suddenly painfully conscious of the scars running across his back, marking him as permanent proof of his mistakes, branding him as a monster-

He walked over to her stiltedly, lips pressed together, and knelt to rifle through his bag in search of pajamas. He was aware of the way her eyes opened slightly to follow him, to watch him, to look at him. He was sure she could see them. He was sure she was focusing on them, even. The physical proof of his sickness. The stain left by his mistakes. He paused mid-movement, biting the inside of his lip. "Could you not?" It came out with more bite than he'd intended. He clenched his fists for a brief moment before they went slack.

There was a long pause before she replied. "Not what?"

"Look at me like that. Look at my... you know." He pointedly avoided her gaze, but he could still feel it searing into him.

"Look at you like what?" she asked, not addressing his second statement. He ran his finger across the teeth of his bag's zipper. The crystal gems, and his dad, and Connie all stood around him. They were just looking at him. He was a fraud. He was a fraud, he was a- "It doesn't matter. Just... don't look at them. Please."

"I won't if you don't want me to. I just think they're nice to look at."

He swallowed, throat dry. "How are they nice?" He remembered seeing them for the first time after the bandages came off, holding a small mirror in his hand to reflect the full sized one's reflection of his back. It was covered in warped, distorted skin. It was raw and torn up and it was a shade of rose that he hated and of course it was rose and now it would cover him forever. He'd sat on the cold floor, still and silent, until the gems came to check up on him with their worried voices.

"I'm not sure. Maybe it's the colors, or maybe it's the shapes. It doesn't really matter. They're pretty, I think, though. All of you is." He could tell from his peripheral vision that she wasn't looking at him, now. But still...

"They aren't pretty," he said firmly. Another sentence hung in the air, unspoken. Neither am I.

"Why do you hate them?" Connie laid down, holding a hand in front of her face. He didn't know when he'd looked up at her.

"I..." He stopped himself before he said 'don't'. He did. And he didn't want to lie anymore. Not to himself. But especially not to her. "They'll always be there," he said quietly. She waited patiently. "It's just a reminder... I... I can never be free of what I did, can't... move on. I... shouldn't be able to, but... it still..."

She looked down at him again, and there was that look again, so beautiful but so full of sorrow. The eyes that she had were too old for someone of her age. She suspected she'd tell him the same thing. "It never goes away," she said, and she looked so tired but so hopeful. "It doesn't go away, but you can move on. You can grow and change and it'll always be there, but you can learn from it and you can learn to deal with it."

She slid off of the side of the bed so that she was crouching in front of him. "They might remind you of the bad. I can't change that, and I'm so, so sorry. But they remind me of the fact that you're still here. That you're with me, and you're moving forward."

She wrapped her arms around him and he collapsed into her, emotion swelling up within him. "I can't help but feel grateful."

Steven shuddered, placing his hands on her back, and when she slowly moved her hands down to his, he didn't even flinch away.

**Author's Note:**

> Can't believe Rebecca got me invested in an f/m ship that's some powerful stuff


End file.
